Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Morocco and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Rosa Yemen to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Stetsasonic,
John Lydon,
The Knickerbockers,
The Move,
The Dirtbombs,
Crooked Eye,
Interpol,
Henry Cow,
Bill Wells,
Babytalk,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ohio Players,
Scratch Acid,
Nils Olav,
Quantec,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Parry Music,
Aloha Tigers,
Avey Tare,
Brick,
Deadbeat,
James White and The Blacks,
The Star Department,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Nirvana,
Blake Baxter,
Jerry's Kids,
Bang On A Can,
Rapeman,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Slackers,
David McCallum,
Lightning Bolt,
The Flesh Eaters,
Peter and Kerry,
L. Decosne,
Prince Buster,
Bush Tetras,
Leonard Cohen,
Alison Limerick,
Hoover,
Fatback Band,
Michelle Simonal,
The Last Poets,
Sonic Youth,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Procol Harum,
Anakelly,
The Divine Comedy,
Desert Stars,
Graham Central Station,
Eric Copeland,
John Foxx,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Boredoms,
Flash Fearless,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Dead C,
Average White Band,
Don Cherry,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.